


Payback

by AlleiraDayne



Category: Dragon Age Inquisition - Fandom
Genre: Cullenlingus, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Smutt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 18:14:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5385584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleiraDayne/pseuds/AlleiraDayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nerine Trevelyan is interrupted while working.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Payback

**Author's Note:**

> 100+ Follower Giveaway piece for @oblivionscribe, 1500 words.

The door to her quarters burst open and his heavy footfalls echoed up the stairwell as Cullen raced to the top. Nerine stood from her desk, chair pushed back and scraping loudly against the stone floor. Had he run clear across the castle to her?

“Cullen, what’s—”

He silenced her with a searing kiss, arms wrapping around her tightly as their bodies met. She felt the ripple of his muscles, only then noticing he wore none of his usual armor, clad in a sleeved shirt and leather pants. The thought vanished as his tongue and lips greedily pried at hers and she moaned a soft sigh at his sudden, insistent passion. Before she could part from him, a hand slipped between her thighs to stroke the heat of her core, and her arousal fanned to a roaring inferno in a matter of seconds. Nerine whimpered another moan against his lips, thoroughly enjoying the sudden onslaught of his lust.

Cullen parted from her, lips red and swollen, and he sighed his own moan of arousal with an absent roll of his hips. She felt the throb of his swelling erection through their pants and she knew there was no way she would be getting any work done for the remainder of that evening.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked breathless.

“In about thirty seconds,” Cullen began as he gently eased her back into her chair. “Four scouts will open your door to provide field reports.” He knelt before her between the desk and her legs and his fingers slipped between her knees prying them apart. Not that he had to try. At all. Nerine’s legs flew apart as Cullen’s fingers eased up the insides of her thighs and her heart raced to a gallop in anticipation.

“And ah … what should I have them do when they arrive?” she asked, voice hungry with lust.

Cullen grinned as he snatched the legs of her chair and pulled it to him as he backed under her desk. Hidden form her, his disembodied voice echoed from beneath the heavy wood, “Receive them as you would normally.” And then she felt the tug of her laces as he began to untie them.

“ _Cullen!_ ” she cried out. “Absolutely …  _oh!”_

Her protest died on a prolonged moan as sure, practiced fingers slipped passed her smalls to bury in her heat, soaked with arousal. Curling strokes had her panting in seconds and Nerine rolled her hips up to give him a better angle. Deeper his fingers plunged and her cry of bliss cut off with a choked gasp as the door to her quarters opened once more.

Just as Cullen had predicted, the four scouts tromped up the stairs and crossed her room to stand before her desk. Nerine attempted to plaster an unreadable mask to her face, but she could feel the tingle of her cheeks as they colored, blushing furiously as Cullen continued to stroke her cunt.

She could hardly steady her breath to speak. How was she supposed to accomplish anything without giving him away?

“Re … Report,” she demanded, voice far too breathless and the scouts noticed. The woman to her right stepped forward and held up a long parchment that, much to Nerine’s dismay, was covered with a tiny scrawling hand from top to bottom. Her brow furrowed in concentration and it took all of her willpower not to cry out in ecstasy as Cullen added another finger to his ministrations.

“News from the … Lady Inquisitor, are you alright?”

She nodded, but she dared not speak, lips pursed tightly to contain any sounds that Cullen attempted to extract. When the scout failed to continue, Nerine motioned her onward with an impatient wave of her hand.

The scout babbled at length – something about the Hissing Wastes, the Void take the blasted region. All Nerine heard was the slightly wet sounds emanating from below her desk as Cullen stroked her further, faster, and she prayed to the Maker, and Andraste, and the Creators, and any other holy being she could think of that the scouts could not hear such obscene, such  _lascivious_  sounds.

When the scout finally finished, the second stepped forward and introduced himself as a new member of Leliana’s messengers. Nerine had already forgotten his name by the time he launched into his report. It lasted mere moments and she thanked the Maker once more for that.

As the third scout stepped forward her eyes widened and she had to clamp a hand over her mouth lest she scream outright. The seal of Cullen’s lips on her swollen bud startled her so badly, his head thumped the underside of the desk.

“Lady Inquisitor, are you sure you’re alright? You look … flustered,” the third scout asked.

“I’m—” her voice cracked, unsteady with the rush of pleasure from Cullen’s tongue lapping at her quim. “I’m fine. Continue.”

The scout clearly did not believe her but he pressed the issue no further and began his report. It might as well have been as long as the first for how much Nerine actually heard of it. Which was nothing. Cullen’s tongue swirled circles about her clit until she quivered beneath him, walls flexing around his still stroking fingers, and she did everything in her power to hold back her orgasm.

But Cullen was relentless. Maker damn him, he was far too good at pleasuring her, for as much as she tried, she couldn’t hold back the waves of euphoria that inched ever closer with each stroke of his fingers, each laving swipe of his tongue. By the time the fourth scout began her report, Nerine was trembling in her chair, panting breaths through her nose in short and irregular pulls.

How long had she stopped? The last scout had just started. Or so she thought. But all four of them stood before her, waiting for additional orders, still and silent and staring. She had to think of something, fast, before one of them got the bright idea in their head to come around to the backside of her desk …

“Leave your … reports here,” she pointed to the center of the desk. She opened her mouth to speak again, but the only sound that came out was a short, mewling gasp as Cullen withdrew his fingers from her and replaced them with his curling tongue.

“Do you need help, Inquisitor? A healer?” one of them asked.

“No!” she nearly shouted and all four scouts jumped back at her outburst. “No. I assure you. I’m—I’m fine. Just leave your reports, I’ll review them. Dismissed.”

In turn, they each placed their reports on the center of her desk and headed for the stairs. Nerine listened closely as the last of them disappeared below the bannister and when the door finally shut with a thump, she let out an exasperated moan and shoved her chair back from her desk.

Cullen attempted to look up at her innocently, but his wicked grin returned in full and she could see her arousal glistening across his lips mingled with his spit. He crawled forward on his hands and knees, and Nerine stood to tear her leggings and smalls down to her boots. As he returned to her core, Cullen grasped her by the hips and pulled her back down to her chair roughly and plunged his face back between her thighs, tongue relentless in his mission.

In mere seconds, the height of her arousal was upon her, returned in earnest as Cullen hummed his approval against her lips. The pitch of her moans crept ever higher, near to a whimpering mess as the heat spread from her core to consume her entire body. Her hips rolled in rhythm with his tongue, grinding out her aching heat on his face. So close, so  _near_ , the precipice right  _there,_  just beneath her toes as they curled over the edge, ever so ready for release.

She only need a little more, just another stroke, just one more lick, anything for that little push to get her over the last inch. Instead, what came was a violent shove as Cullen thrusted two fingers so deep into her sopping folds as he sucked at her bud, she cried out his name and her hips rolled, grinding her core against his face. Pleasure crashed over her body in repeated waves, consuming her whole as Cullen eased her along the sensations, her fingers grasping at his blond waves just for something to hold.

Cullen leaned back on his haunches as he cleaned himself of her nectar, licking his lips and sucking his fingers. He hummed his approval through his nose as he stared at her, amber eyes ablaze with a lust she wanted to know better. But before that, she wanted an answer.

“Andraste’s flaming sword, what was  _that_ for?” she breathed.

Cullen’s wicked grin returned as his fingertips lingered on his lips, and with a low, wanton sigh, he spoke.

“Payback.”


End file.
